


Your Hand in Mine

by debwalsh



Series: Bingo-Bingo [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:37:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: In the aftermath of the battle with Tony Stark, T’Challa escorts Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers to Wakanda to recover.  On the flight en route, a simple truth becomes evident to the two men out of time.Written for “holding hands” square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo card for my Patreon patron thetessie.  Thanks so much for the prompt - it was a pleasure to write.





	Your Hand in Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thetessie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetessie/gifts).



> I’d thought that the “holding hands” prompt would have had me writing about an autumn day in Central Park, or hands held underneath the table in a fancy restaurant. Instead, the prompt led me back to Civil War, and those first hours after Steve and Bucky escaped Siberia. And when a simple hold conveys a lifetime of feeling? That’s our boys.

“You’re sure about this?” Steve asked.

T’Challa shook his head ruefully.  “Where else can you go from here, eh?  You will come to Wakanda with me, recover, and figure out your next move in safety.  No one will be able to get to you there.  Wakanda does not have any extradition treaties with any other country.”

T’Challa led Steve and Bucky to his craft, waved them inside, then came up into the ship himself, as the ramp closed behind him.  “Even at the fastest speed, it will be a few hours before we reach Wakandan air space.  Sergeant Barnes looks like he is barely conscious.  There is a small stateroom through there.  Why don’t you both get some rest?”

“You’ve been up as long as we have, maybe longer.  I can’t ask you -“

“Captain Rogers, are you always so argumentative when someone offers you assistance?” T’Challa asked then with an underlying chuckle.

“Always,” Bucky replied without humor.  “He was a five foot nothing asshole, and he hasn’t changed a bit.”

“Wow, it’s nice to know who my friends are,” Steve said then, but the wince on Bucky’s face made him regret it immediately.  “But, hey, his Highness is right - you’re asleep on your feet, and the blast to your arm can’t be making you feel any better.”

“I have someone who can take a look at that when we get to Wakanda.  Are you okay for now, Sergeant Barnes?”

“Yeah, I can feel some residual sparking, shorts, I guess.  But I never had much sensation in the arm so I’m not in any real pain.”  Steve opened his mouth to ask a question, but immediately thought better of sticking his foot in it again.  Bucky smiled that smile that made Steve weak, and answered Steve’s unspoken question.  “Pressure, heat, cold.  Gross sensations.  Hydra never required delicacy of its Fist.”

“Well, let’s get you some rest for now, huh, Buck?”

“Yeah, okay.”  Bucky paused in the archway, looking back at T’Challa.  “Your Highness.  Thank you.”

“A debt is owed to you, Sergeant Barnes.  This is the least I can offer you.”

“I think you’re overstating it, but still.  Thank you.”

&&&

Buck fell asleep quickly, but Steve was feeling restless.  He went back to the cockpit to see if there was anything he could do, but the King merely urged him to get some rest, too.  But before he turned back to the stateroom, T’Challa said, “You have not made any comments about Wakanda being backward.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It is what people believe.”

“People believed my best friend was a stone old killer.  They were wrong, too.”

T’Challa allowed himself a small smile.  “I was one of them.”

“Yes.  And you were open to the truth.  I come from a time when most people in my building had to share bathrooms.  I’m faced with miracles everyday.  Things that were beyond my imagination are commonplace today.  My context for backward is a lot different from most people’s.”

“Ah.  I had not thought of it that way. I am sorry for the way in which we met, Captain. But I think I am looking forward to getting to know you.”

“Well, in that case, hadn’t you better start calling me Steve?  I’m not Captain America anymore, and I’m pretty sure the US Army has probably dishonorably discharged me by this time.  So, for the first time in over 70 years, I’m just plain old Steve Rogers.”

“Something tells me you were never plain old anything, Steve.  You may call me T’Challa. Now go, get some rest.  I will let you know when we are getting close.  You will not want to miss the approach to my country, I assure you.”

&&&

Buck was out cold on the bed, his face peaceful and smooth.  The years dropped away, and Steve could almost believe they were back on the front.  Or even back on the stoop, at home, in Brooklyn.  The unnerving little crackles in the ruined shoulder seemed to have died down, and it looked inert now, dead.  His breathing was steady, rhythmic, even.  

Steve remembered how Bucky would sit at his bedside when he was sick, and how Bucky would tell him how he counted his breaths, the spaces in between, the pauses, and the labors.  Bucky would often take Steve’s clammy, limp hand in his, and hold it through the fever.  Steve thought there were moments when he could feel Bucky’s lips ghost over the flesh of his knuckles, but that was mere fever dream.  But he did remember how Bucky holding his hand had anchored him, made him feel safe, cared for.  

Steve pulled a chair over to sit by the bed, and gently took Bucky’s flesh hand in his, carefully threaded their fingers together, and settled their twined hands back on the bed.  He covered them with his other hand, and leaned forward to rest his head for a moment.  Within seconds, he was asleep, too.

&&&

He woke to pressure against his fingers, his palm.  It took a moment to orient himself, and then he realized that Bucky was squeezing his hand.  He lifted his head to see Bucky smiling at him.

“Feel safer with you here.  Best sleep I’ve had in years, punk.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky squeezed Steve’s hand again, then lifted their joined hands to his lips where he pressed a very deliberate kiss to Steve’s knuckles, his eyes locked on Steve’s.  Then he settled their hands above his heart, pressed them down gently.  Steve shuffled forward in his seat to more comfortably hold his hand in place over Bucky’s heart.  He slid his left hand over Bucky’s bicep, and looked up shyly.

“This okay?”

Tears collected at the corners of Bucky’s eyes as he looked at Steve, a trembling smile on his lips.  “It was always okay, Steve,” he whispered.

Steve felt Bucky tense under his hand, as though he were bracing for something.  At the same time, his face was open, hopeful.

And Steve felt hope ignite in his own chest.  A hope he’d never before acknowledged, but had been with him all along.  Steve’s smile grew broader, brighter.  He squeezed Bucky’s hand, lifted his left to rest it over Bucky’s chest.  “Me, too, Buck.  Me, too.”

END

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Find me on the web: https://linktr.ee/debwalshweb


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